In Response To 'New York City After Hurricane Sandy'

With the increasing overabundance of inane content flooding the web these days, rarely do I find an article that moves me. In my daily browsing, I experience the typical barrage of trivial facts, insignificant personal anecdotes, and funny cat GIFs that come with the territory of the ever-inclusive Internet. However, until yesterday I had never come across a story that provoked such a personal, visceral reaction as the piece I read that morning, written by Forbes’ Monte Burke. In his poignantly personal account, Burke recounts his seemingly post-apocalyptic journey to the Upper West Side from his home in Brooklyn in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. Each and every sentence of his journey is beautifully written and illustrates the radically altered scene in downtown Manhattan, in a way that paints a richer picture than the newspaper images and TV reports. His description of a wounded Manhattan intricately weaves tales of misery with equally emotional tales of heroism.

I have recently moved to the Upper East Side from East Williamsburg (a big change, I know) and with the exception of limited travel options, was luckily spared from any of the effects caused by this once-in-a-lifetime hurricane. Before reading Burke’s harrowing account of downtown Manhattan, it had been five days since I left the three block radius surrounding my apartment. I was itching to go somewhere – anywhere. Burke’s story spoke to me in a way that I didn’t expect and it became clear – I needed to get downtown and experience for myself what had happened to the city. As I was going off the map (and most likely should have actually been working…), I packed up my ‘emergency kit’ — a laptop, iPad, MiFi, Droid Razr, Canon 60D, a few lenses, batteries and SD cards, and started my hike downtown. Never had I been so fully loaded with equipment.

I left my place on 88th and headed down to a friend’s on 58th. We talked about the lack of issues we’ve faced and neither one of us could truly understand the discrepancy between the life we had been living these past few days and the scene downtown, utterly confused by the difference that less than three miles could make. I then met up with Sean, one of my roommates, and we continued the downtown walk.

We planned on taking 1st Ave. all the way down, but curiosity got the best of us. We became flâneurs, taking in anything and everything that intrigued us. We went to Beekman Place (a neighborhood I never knew existed), cruised past the UN (a building I still believe to be one of the ugliest in NYC), entered Tudor City, and saw the first noticeable sign that a major national disaster had happened. Little did we know what was to come.

Continuing our walk downtown, we came to 2nd Ave., between 39th and 40th – the exact block where power went out. Here, we finally encountered the blackout zone. There was no way to expect such an explicit line between power and no power… but there it was. One side of the block had power and the other was blacked out.

We unknowingly walked into the 69th Regiment Armory, a location I, in my perpetual obliviousness, always assumed was strictly used for events. My closest friend is an Army Ranger, and seeing these soldiers in action was a wakeup call for me.

The next site we hit was Union Square, where it quickly dawned on me that residents of this city are too often labeled as antisocial and self-serving. Put simply, New Yorkers are always there for each other. There is a mutual respect amongst those who live here. We don’t bother each other on a day-to-day basis, but in times of need, New Yorkers will come out of the woodwork to lend a hand. Nothing displayed this sentiment better than the truck in Union Square that was offering free power to those who needed to charge their phones.

The Union Square subway station was still out of commission and only those with access could enter.

We stopped by the Whole Foods in Union Square, which amazingly still had power. I can’t imagine what it cost to power a generator for a grocery store of this size, but I also can’t imagine how vital it must have been to the people in that neighborhood. I was shocked to see the ghost town inside; we were amongst the few shoppers.

Instead of their usual wares (bongs/bowls/gas masks with some sort of attached smoking mechanism), salespeople in Union Square opted for a more useful selection:

Being in Union Square, the next stop of course had to be the Forbes building. We were greeted by the always friendly security guard David, whom I see every day, but knew this day was different. He was standing outside, alone, on a bleak street, ever faithful to the imposing Forbes Magazine building. Seeing his always smiling face, and him seeing me approaching, brought out joy in each of us social beings who have been in a lack of social encounters. It was great to hear the stories of the Forbes fortress, its trials and tribulations, and what it took to keep such a massive building safe through the storm. I could not help but feel empathetic when I heard he was forced to be there for long hours, in the pitch black, with no electricity, yet he was able to stay happy, stay positive, and truck through this dismal time. (Disclaimer: David is one of my top 3 favorite security guards… Won’t mention the other 2…)

Forbes was the original destination for the walk, but after making it greater than seventy-four blocks, we decided the next stop would be Sean’s office at Bank of NY and the World Trade Center. So on we went into an eerie Washington Square Park, full of tourists and crackheads, through an uncomfortably desolate Greenwich Village and SoHo, to a quiet TriBeCa.

We then came to the oddly bustling Financial District. Seeing the World Trade Center up close for the first time in months affected me deeply. As a young 20-something, 9/11 and Hurricane Sandy are the two most extreme events that have happened locally in my lifetime. The two events combining together was a powerful moment for me.

We progressed down to Bank of NY and it was just as dark as Forbes; they were spending their time with Stanley Steemer flushing the water out of the ground floor.

As we came closer and closer to the end of our trip, we saw the water and knew that the Statue of Liberty was close. So of course, we had to make it complete – finish off the journey from the northeast to as far southwest as possible. Standing out on the promenade, gazing out at the statue, I could not help but think about all those who came before me, and how all of us now are struggling together to make names for ourselves in this crazy city. It was a reminder of who I am, how lucky I am, and how much I owe to the good of others.

As I sit here writing this in my UES side apartment, I know I will never forget this hurricane, the bonding sessions with friends throughout it (like most NYers, we’ve taken solace in food, talk, and drink), and the quest through Manhattan.

And I flick off the lights I so luckily have, and fall back into the black with the rest of this city.

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“Put simply, New Yorkers are always there for each other. There is a mutual respect amongst those who live here. We don’t bother each other on a day-to-day basis, but in times of need, New Yorkers will come out of the woodwork to lend a hand.”